Green Knight
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Some called the Spartans demons. Some likened them to the Green Knight. In the end, Sara Sorvad did both.


_No, I seek no battle, I assure you truly. Those about me in this hall are but beardless children._

-The Green Knight addresses Sir Arthur's court.

* * *

**Green Knight**

Sára Sorvad doesn't believe in demons.

At least, that's what she's been telling herself over the past day or so. Demons haven't suddenly descended from the sky, bringing the fires of Hell with them. Demons didn't storm in here last night, tearing apart anyone who stood before them in a manner befitting their nature. And demons certainly didn't impale her father right before her eyes, his own losing their life as quickly as she lost her courage. No...of course demons don't exist.

Fighting back a sob, Sára realizes that she can only lie to herself for so long.

The problem with such lies is that the truth is all too visible. The sky demons nearly found her and now humanoid demons have arrived as well. Demons that are in the same league as the troopers who sought refuge from the sky devils, looking down on a "backwards, superstitious people" dwelling in this world's remote regions. In a way, that's an advantage. The Earth demons have fought off the sky demons and seem to be content to let her stay huddled in the corner. To let lies be replaced with truth, to let delusion be replaced by grief and her conscious thought occupied with avoiding their gaze while keeping her own off the body of her father. So far, it's working. Or at least the first part is.

"Find out what she knows."

Sára feels a chill run down her spine, colder than any of Visegrad's mountain winds. The demons have remembered their presence. And watching the one who seized her earlier approach, they're no longer willing to ignore her either.

_Please go away..._the young girl wishes desperately, hoping the demon's baleful gaze turns away from her, that he realizes that she has nothing to say to him. _Just leave me alone..._

It's hope this time, not belief. Belief that he'd actually do such a thing would be lying. And Sára Sorvad has seen how useless that's been so far.

The demon gives her arm a gentle shove, yet she manages to ignore it. It's surprisingly gentle for someone over seven feet tall, but she won't allow herself to be fooled. The smallest of the sky demons looked harmless enough, almost comical, but even they proved to be lethal in their own way. That's all demons do after all. Bring death. And Earth demons, she reminds herself, are no different.

"What's your name?"

Sára doesn't answer. Whether it be in sight or sound, she won't give this monster the gratification of her acknowledging his presence.

"Do you live around here?"

At first, Sára continues her refusal to answer. And while that refusal continues in form, it doesn't in spirit. Because when she hears the sound of pressurized air escaping, she glances up, God help her. And while it is just one peek, it's enough. Enough to see the demon take off his helmet and reveal himself to be...well, a man. A rugged, hardened man, but a human nonetheless. And, as some unwanted part of her mind points out, a fairly handsome one at that.

Sára shakes it off. Demons, devils, they're all masters of deception. She can't let this one get to her.

"A nevem Jorge," the...man says in Hungarian.

"Sára," the girl of the same name murmurs, daring to make another glance. In the midst of garbled alien/demon language and the Western European one she's barely had to utter until the troopers turned up, able to speak in her own is strangely comforting.

"Sára..." the man repeats. "Szep, hattarozott new. Your accent sounds familiar. Sopron?"

"Tengeri."

The demon is breaking down her guard, but Sára finds herself caring less and less. Admittedly, some of that stems from the inability to truly care about anything at this point, especially when the sky demons have struck away the person she cared about the most. Yet part of her interaction also stems from her remembering another piece of folklore. This man...he's not so much a demon or green sprite, he's more like...like...

"Friend of yours?"

It's only now that Sára realizes her gaze has turned to her father, as if to look for answers that will never come. Sullenly, and once again fighting back tears, she affirms the paternal relationship to the man above her.

"Sajnalom...I'm sorry."

"Why would you be?"

Her words are uncalled for, as is her glare that she gives the man. Yet Sára can't help but despise him, if only slightly. Hatred is the opposite side of the coin that features grief, and she knows that someday, she'll have to let it go. But with all the sky demons dead or missing, she has nothing to focus her hatred on. It's a raw, unwanted emotion, but for now, it's a stable one.

Maybe the green...whoever he is understands that. Maybe that's why he remains silent and gives her the solitude she desires, offering no rebuttal to her accusation. He's certainly capable of it at least, responding to the skull-faced demon's quip in an emotive manner similar to how Sára is feeling right now. Or, at least how she felt. Because somehow in the midst of all this, she's feeling one of the most frightening emotions of all...fear itself. A fear as to what will happen to her now that the interrogation is over. Will the demons leave her here? Will they take her with them? Will they-...

"Get her on her feet...the body stays here."

...well, that answered the question pretty quickly.

It's surprising that someone so large can move so softly, Sára reflects, as the green armoured...guy approaches, the mythological reference still escaping her. What's even more surprising to her is that she takes his outstretched hand without question, rising to her feet and even welcoming the reassuring squeeze he gives her shoulder. Maybe it's psychological, a need for a father figure in light of the absence of one. Maybe it's because she just doesn't care. Or maybe, Sára reflects, it's because she's worked out whom the man reminds her of.

He's not so much a green demon.

Rather, he's a Green Knight.

* * *

_A/N_

_Admittedly this isn't the first time the Green Knight analogy has been used to describe Spartans. Still, since Jorge is a living, walking "gentle giant" meme, maybe he can have another meme attatched as well..._


End file.
